


Role Reversal

by Hello_Spikey



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-29
Updated: 2009-04-29
Packaged: 2019-07-06 08:11:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15882069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hello_Spikey/pseuds/Hello_Spikey
Summary: Riley and his men are surrounded by hostiles when Spike happens along.





	Role Reversal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jasonsnene](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=jasonsnene).



> So, jasonsnene challenged me to write: Reversal of role or fortune (loss of love, power, rank, etc; hunter becomes prey, master becomes slave; a strong character is made weak; role-reversal games; Flowers for Algernon scenario)
> 
> okay! I wanted this to be Spiley, but it's really pre-slash. (I know! Bad me!)
> 
> Season 4-ish, some time after Riley "meets" Spike, but before the Initiative is defeated. Whee!

Soldier 8

The big demon – a Huskald – puffed up its chest and said, “Here we have what you call an HST, boys – that’s ‘Hostile Soldier Terrestrial’. What can we learn from this strange creature?” He sneered sarcastically.

Riley clenched his fists and kept a stoic face. They’d jumped him, Forrest and Graham on patrol. Now they were in some blasted out basement – perhaps the remains of a building that didn’t prove earthquake proof. A corridor and four odd-shaped rooms of poured concrete, littered with trash and open to the starless night. A large group of demons, vampires, and, honestly, he didn’t know  _what_  circled them, jeering, eyes flashing with vengeful glee.

“Number six,” the Huskald demon slammed Graham in the chest. “number seven!” he pushed Forrest over. “Number eight!” Riley widened his stance to take the punch, but even so it was a touchy thing, keeping his feet.

“Let’s see what they look like on the inside!”

“Naw, let’s see ‘em fuck!”

The big demon shook his finger at his colleagues, tutting. “Now, now, let’s be  _scientific_ , here. We know this species, which calls itself ‘human’,” he made quote marks with his fingertips, “reacts badly to fire. So why don’t we see if we can find out how much fire is necessary to burn them?”

Two vampires stepped forward and seized Graham. Riley started toward him, but was held back. “He’s done nothing to you!” Riley shouted. “We were only following orders!”

And then that big demon face was inches from his, spittle bubbling along four-inch fangs. “You call it nothing, soldier?” A hand landed on Riley’s chest. It was almost as wide as Riley’s chest, claws digging in to his pectorals on either side as that huge mouth twisted into a sickening grin. “Well, just sit back and enjoy the  _nothing_  we do right back to you.” He pushed Riley back into the grasping arms of two vampires. “Let’s start with something tame, like hot pokers.”

A cackle of approval went through the crowd, and demons were hurrying to light blow-torches and find bits of metal to heat. Forrest and Riley struggled against their captors while Graham watched the glowing metal advancing toward him with grim resolve.

The poker burned through Graham’s shirt. He kept his mouth shut, though a whining sound rose in the back of his throat, his breath coming in short pants and sweat standing out on his brow as he glared his hatred at his captors.

“Stop it!” Riley kicked and pushed his way free only to be caught again two steps closer. “Stop! I’m the commanding officer. You torture me.”

The Huskald turned, grinning. The vampires continued to jostle, each wanting a turn with the hot poker. “No, boys, no.” The big demon held out his large mitt. “We are going about this all wrong. After all, we have an  _officer_  here.”

The jostling stilled somewhat, save between the vampires holding Graham who had to work to hold him still. He was hissing in his breath and promising bloody vengeance.

The Huskald put his massive hands on his hips, adjusting the lay of his leather kilt. “Well, Mr. Officer, you may have been number one before, but now you’re Number Eight.” He pronounced the number with especial emphasis and satisfaction, and punched Riley in the gut.

Riley had no choice but to double over, feeling the air whoosh out of him, and crumble to the ground, where strong hands immediately set to holding him down.

“You’re right, Eli, we should see how the hostile soldier terrestrial mates. Hold him down, boys. Number 8 here gets to be on the bottom.”

There were hoots and catcalls. Forrest was thrown against Riley, and he apologized hastily, struggling to get off of him despite the numerous hands holding him against Riley.

“Go on, boys! We won’t ask, and we won’t tell. Jimmy, don’t stop the fire – get that poker hot again. I think number seven here needs some motivation!”

Riley felt a tremor inside at the humiliation of this, what was about to happen, what seemed inevitable. Fingers were clawing at his belt, trying to get at the front. He felt hands moving over Forrest, who shook with revulsion. “Riley, man – I can’t…”

He should say something, he knew. Something encouraging or soothing. Calm his team down. But all he could think was: I should be stronger. I should be able to stop this. He grunted and struggled, elbowing the nearest face and getting a sharp kick in the stomach.

“Well, well, well!” A voice broke over the general rabble, familiar and odd. Riley tried to see, but there were too many bodies in the way. “What have we here? Looks like a big party full of nasties. Tell you what: I’ll let you blokes decide who dies first.”

Forrest’s handlers let up and he scrambled off of Riley, who quickly moved to his knees, elbowed another vampire and got to his feet.

For a bare moment, he and Forrest were standing together, temporarily forgotten. “Who is that?”

“Hos…” Riley stopped himself quick, glancing at his captors. The last thing they needed was a reminder of the initiative. “Spike. A vampire.”

He almost didn’t have to say it, at that point, because around them, the vampires and demons were muttering “Spike. It’s Spike,” in a sibilant wave. Riley shared a hopeful look with Forrest, who was hastily re-fastening his pants. And then the demons remembered them and held them fast, pulling them apart.

“He killed Jerry!”

“Let me get him, boss. That bastard…”

“Now, now!” The lead demon held out his large hands to quiet the tumult. “Vampire!” he called up to Spike, “This concerns you, too. We’ve caught some interesting specimens here. Thought we’d perform a few experiments.” He pulled Riley from the demons who held his arms, nearly wrenching his shoulder out of joint. “Look familiar, Spike? How about you stop fighting your own kind and join us in taking a bite out of the bastards who made you…” the demon sneered, “whatever it is you are.”

Spike paused his pacing. His eyes were on Riley. His expression was unreadable. “Oh,” he said.

He dropped down to the floor. “That’s different.” He clapped his hands and rubbed them. “So, what are we doing? Something lingering, I hope? Lingering and humiliating, with a side of brutal?”

“Spike!” Riley fought to get closer. “Buffy will kill you when she finds out about this.”

“Yeah, but you lot won’t get any less dead, will you?” Spike rolled his eyes. He nudged the vampire with the blow torch. “Give me that.” He smiled, face maniacal in the blue light. “Let me show you how this is done!”

The demons and vampires turned to him, some confused, some already applauding the violence to come. Spike frowned thoughtfully. He adjusted the height of the flame, and lit his cigarette off of it. He nodded and turned to Graham, who renewed his struggles. “Where to stick a soldier boy first?” Spike gestured with the flame, winding it up and down Graham’s torso, pausing near the groin.

Spike flicked his cigarette at one of the vampires holding Graham. The vampire flinched, and then Spike turned up the gas on the torch shoved the fire at the other vampire, catching his clothes and sending him running, arms wheeling as he caught fire.

“Right! Have the  _vampires_  handle the flame. Sodding geniuses, you are.” He kicked the demon holding Forrest in the gut.

Graham was free. He lunged on the other demon holding Forrest. Riley didn’t see any more as the giant demon pushed him down to the floor, placing his large foot on him.

Riley twisted, both hands grasping the giant foot, which was threatening to crush his ribs. His back strained against the concrete behind him and his lungs ached with wanting more air. All he could see was the underside of the Huskald demon, his grey-streaked loincloth and monstrous knee. Riley twisted with all his might, trying to lever his body under the heel and buy some space. Something shifted. The demon was moving, and he stomped down and lifted off erratically. One lift, and Riley was free, rolling for lack of a better means of locomotion, he was stopped by more feet – normal-sized feet. He punched someone in the groin and grabbed their belt to haul himself to his feet. The vampire moaned in pain and he snapped its back on his leg, letting it fall rather than deal with it. He needed his team.

Graham, Forrest, and Spike were back-to-back, working their way toward him, only the Huskald demon between them. Riley had no weapons, and his chest creaked when he breathed. He took off his army-issue cloth belt and wrapped one end around his right fist. Shaking his head once in acknowledgement of how stupid this plan was, he jumped onto the Huskald’s back.

Riley didn’t have time to see if he’d succeeded in wrapping the belt around the demon’s thick neck before he was being tossed about like an unsuccessful rodeo clown, his legs colliding with god knew what and his back sparking with whip-crack pain. He flexed his arms, drew himself tight into the demon’s sour-smelling hair, fighting momentum and inertia and torque to get his legs under him again, against the broad back. He dug in.

And then fell, reflexively jerking the taut belt into his own chest as the demon simply disappeared.

Sprawled on his stomach on the ground, he looked up to see Spike calmly lighting another cigarette. The hand holding his lighter was dripping with black ichor. “Huskald demons. Just gotta hit ‘em in the spleen.”

They were standing, the four of them. The small army of demons and vampires were dust, or fled. 

Against the wall, the vampire whose back he’d broken moaned and tried to crawl away. Spike took three quick strides and plunged a stake through him. Then he turned around, tilted his head, and said, “What?”

“Do you know this hostile?” Forrest asked, looking uncertainly between Spike and Riley.

Spike snorted. “Yeah, I’m shocked and disappointed in myself. But if you ladies don’t mind, I’m taking off before I recover my senses.”

He flipped two fingers at them – what did that mean, anyway? And leapt back atop the wall.

Riley didn’t know why he ran after him. “Spike, wait!” He jogged up the litter-strewn steps they’d taken down into this ruined basement. He could see the flare of a lighter ahead, under the trees.

“Finn?” Graham called, peering up the stairs after him. “Forrest still has his radio. We’re calling in a clean-up.”

“Good. Stay here. I need to secure Hostile… er, Spike.” Riley shook his head, mostly at himself, and followed the gleam of Spike’s head in the moonlight.

He caught up to him at the road, where the vampire stood under a street lamp, smoking.

Riley pressed a hand into his ribs, trying to ease the ache as he caught his breath. “You saved us.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

“Why?”

Spike raised an eyebrow and flicked his spent cigarette into the street. “All right, soldier boy, you tell me: if our positions had been reversed, what would you have done?”

Riley knew what he was supposed to say, but he was an honest man, foremost. “I’m not sure.”

“I am.” Spike tucked his thumbs in his belt and frowned up at Riley’s face. “Because our positions were reversed. I was held by a bunch of sadistic fuckwits and you did nothing to help.” He smiled, batting his eyes.

“That was different. The initiative isn’t hurting demons for fun. They’re trying to learn about them.”

“Yeah, I’m sure it’s much prettier on the other side of the bars.” He patted Riley’s arm. “Anyway, there you have it: I did it because I knew you wouldn’t. That and Buffy’s annoyingly attached to you. Bleeding tragic taste she has.” He shrugged and stepped back, leaning against the light post again and looking expectantly at Riley.

What was he supposed to say? Riley shook his head. “I’m… good. A moral man. You… you’re evil.”

“I know!” Spike tilted his head back, laughing genuinely. “That’s what makes it kinky, isn’t it?”

A small snort, that might have been a laugh, but he would deny it later, escaped Riley’s lips. He shook his head. “See you around, Spike,” he said, and turned to re-join his men.

And was stopped by a cool arm wrapped around his waist. He froze in place, every nerve taut and aware.

“Of course,” Spike said, “I could show you all sorts of lovely things that  _didn’t_  happen in the initiative. Think about it, cornbread. I know you’re not as pure as they think.”

And were those lips? Pressing to his shoulder? Riley couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move… he didn’t turn around until the arm was gone, the presence of another body vanished. He turned to find himself alone.

He shook his head, and ran the full way back to the abandoned basement.

END

 


End file.
